Finding Home
by a.house.of.pomegranates
Summary: Following the Final Battle, Harry is transported to another reality; one where Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived, died without defeating Voldemort. Surrounded by people he has seen die, and with the threat of Voldemort looming one more, Harry begins life anew.
1. Prologue

Finding Home

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise from the Harry Potter books belong to me. It all belongs to J K Rowling *pauses to bow down to her sheer genius* and I am not making, nor ever will make any money from playing with her characters. Disclaimer applies to the whole story.

Genre: Friendship/ Hurt and Comfort/ Romance

Rating: M

Warnings: Character death later on in the story, some intimate scenes, occasional swearing.

Summary: Following the Final Battle, Harry is transported to another reality; one where Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived, died without defeating Voldemort. Surrounded by people he has seen die, and with the threat of Voldemort looming one more, Harry begins life anew.  
Follows canon up until DH, where the trio spent five months 'camping' and then five months in an Order safe house, training. Everything after the battle is AU.

Extra Notes: Sections of _italics _indicate spells or thoughts, or in later chapters, flashbacks or dreams, and _**S**__ italics __**S**_ indicates parseltongue.

* * *

Prologue: '_Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.'_

* * *

'_Avada Kedavra!_'

Green light. A piercing scream. Darkness, such thick darkness.

Then nothing.

.o0o.

'Who _is _he?'

Whispers surrounded him, forcing their way into his cloud-filled mind.

'Is he dangerous?'

He tried to move his arm, but found he was in too much pain. Why was he in pain?

'Don't be ridiculous, he's just a boy! And a skinny little thing, at that – Oh my! Look at his arm!'

Skinny? How dare they! _Little_? And what was wrong with his arm? Shifting his eyelid a fraction of an inch - allowing vague, half-formed images to drift in front of him – Harry tensed, realising with a sudden weight in his stomach, that he was surrounded.

'Molly, could you wake Poppy please. It appears that our guest is in need of urgent treatment.' A more powerful voice; authoritative, familiar... Harry mentally frowned, though careful not to allow anything to show on his face. Why was the voice familiar?

He heard the sound of someone running, and a distant cry of, 'Poppy!'

'Albus - ' a voice began.

Albus? Albus _Dumbledore_? Impossible! Harry felt his brow crinkle, despite his determination to remain still, and at once heard the whispers die down.

'He's waking up.'

Taking as deep a breath as he could manage, owing to his current position, laid down on a hard, stone floor – how had he gotten there again? – and the growing pains in his chest, Harry opened his eyes, and screamed. Stood around him were not only Albus Dumbledore, but Arthur, Charlie and Ron Weasley, Sirius, Remus, Professors McGonagall, _Snape_ and Trelawney, Hermione Granger, Parvati Patil and _Draco Malfoy_. War-heightened senses kicking into action, Harry kicked out with his right foot, hissing in pain and tripping the nearest bystander – Charlie – before rolling over and up onto his feet. His wand clutched firmly in his right hand, Harry cast an invisible protective shield around himself, before crouching into a protective stance, facing the person who looked like Albus Dumbledore. Shocked cries filled the room, as those nearest pointed their wands at Harry, apparently unnerved by his rapid movements.

The pain in his chest had worsened, every breath now feeling as though a knife were stabbing through the middle of his ribcage. He was aware that his left arm was hanging limply by his side, his shoulder throbbing, and that his right knee was trembling. He tried to move his arm, only to cry out in pain. He steadied the arm holding his wand, gripping it tightly, noticing as he did so, the congealed blood covering the area between his wrist and elbow. He looked back towards the group of people, who had now all moved to stand in front of him.

_Death Eaters. They have to be Death Eaters. _

How?

_Polyjuice._

Malfoy could have organised it. Could have arranged the whole thing – Harry frowned, struggling to think through the pain emanating from so many parts of his body. No, Polyjuice needed fresh ingredients. Remus, Arthur, even _Snape_ might have been possible, but Hermione? _Dumbledore_? There was just no way... the potion wouldn't have worked. But what else could they have used? Malfoy couldn't have known many other methods of impersonation, and he was the only one there who Harry _knew _was a Death Eater...

Looking back towards the person who looked like Albus Dumbledore, Harry felt a rough probing at the corner of his mind. Instantly locking down the protective mind-shields he had built up during the war, Harry was gratified to see the person who looked like Severus Snape hiss, as though he had just been burned, and flinch ever so slightly away from Harry.

'His mind-shields,' the man whispered, in response to the questioning glances he was receiving. 'They're impenetrable.'

Shocked murmurs started up once again around the room, and Harry instantly felt more and more tiny probing energies in his mind. They were weak though, and, if he was honest, far more of an annoyance than a threat. His leg had now begun to shake violently, and he hissed in pain, not sure how much longer he could remain standing.

At that moment, a woman who looked like Mrs Weasley came rushing back in, accompanied by a woman who looked exactly like Madame Pomfrey.

'You,' she warned, glaring at the person who looked like Dumbledore, 'had better have a good reason for – oh my!' She had spotted Harry, and her glare disappeared, her eyes widening as they surveyed his damaged body. 'Who in Merlin's name is this?' She moved to take a step closer to Harry, only to have him turn his wand steadily on her.

'Don't move,' he whispered; his voice, no matter how soft, reeking of authority.

She took a step back, nonetheless saying, 'You need treatment.'

Harry shook his head, causing a sharp pain in his left cheek.

'Albus, do something!' the woman who looked like Mrs Weasley cried, looking at Harry – who had started to sway very slightly on the spot – in growing concern.

'For Merlin's sake don't be so stubborn – '

'Shut it, Malfoy!'

The boy froze, aristocratic mouth hanging wide open, his sentence left unfinished.

Harry laughed, bitterly, ignoring the shocked looks the rest of the room's occupants were giving him.

'How do you know my name?' Malfoy demanded.

'I'm hardly going to forget it, am I?' Harry snapped, his breathing ragged, his voice laced heavily with sarcasm, 'After all the fun we've had over the years.'

The boy gaped at him. 'I've never met you!'

'What the hell are you going on about?' Harry shouted. The boy's feigned ignorance made no sense. There was no reason for him to pretend not to know Harry. Turning then to face the Dumbledore look-a-like, around whom the rest of the people seemed to be gathered, Harry pointed his wand steadily at the man's chest. 'Who are you?'

The man smiled. 'My name is Albus Dumbledore, former Headmaster of - '

'I know who Albus Dumbledore is,' Harry snapped, feeling the tension in his arm beginning to ache, straining the already cut and bruised limb, and his leg shaking beneath him. 'Who are _you_; why have you made Malfoy forget me and who in _God's name _is everyone else?'

The man frowned. 'I'm not sure I understand what you mean - '

'_Legilimens!_'

Memories flew before Harry's eyes. A young Dumbledore was playing with Aberforth, pretending to fly on a muggle broomstick... A slightly older Dumbledore was receiving his Hogwarts letter, dancing around in joy, as his mother looked on proudly... Studying... Flying... Making friends at Hogwarts... A teenage Dumbledore was meeting Grindlewald; the secret midnight correspondences, the plans, the fall-out... the pain, heartache; Harry watched as Dumbledore's family was ripped apart... plans altered, changed; disappointment, anger, _guilt_, as his whole life was put on hold to take care of his family... awards... acclaim... meaningless trophies... Hogwarts... An adult Dumbledore watched as Hagrid was blamed for the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, guilt almost overwhelming him, as he watched the one he _knew _to be responsible walk away. But he had no proof... Voldemort... the prophesy... A Dumbledore much closer to the one Harry had known was carrying a baby; knocking on a door; handing the baby over, but the house was all wrong. The door was green, the pot plants too tall, and the woman took the baby lovingly into her arms. This wasn't the Dursley's house. The baby shifted, and Harry registered, that it wasn't really a _baby _at all. The toddler lifted his head above Dumbledore's shoulder, allowing Harry to see a brown head of a hair, brown eyes, a clear, un-marred forehead...

Harry cried out as he was forcibly pushed out of the man's head, and stepped back as far as his protective shield would allow. Facing the man who looked like Dumbledore, Harry saw that he was sweating profusely, and breathing heavily.

'That,' the man panted, 'was _quite _a show.'

Ignoring this comment, Harry focussed in on the man's eyes. Those piercing blue irises, that annoying, ever-present twinkle; no spell or potion could ever re-create that. And the memories... the memories had all been real.

'You're Albus Dumbledore,' he whispered.

'Yes,' the man replied, slowly regaining his breath.

'Impossible.'

The man frowned. 'And why would you say - '

'Because you're dead!' Harry screamed, feeling a panic rising up inside his chest. 'You're dead! And you!' he cried, turning his head to face the person who looked like Professor Snape, 'And you!' – McGonagall – 'And you!' – Parvati – 'And you!' – Hermione. 'You're dead, all of you. You. Can't. Be. Here. You're - ' Harry trailed off, his eyes widening. What if Malfoy hadn't forgotten him, what if he'd never known him? What if this wasn't the Malfoy he knew? Theoretically it was possible –

He screamed as the pain in his leg intensified, cutting off his thoughts. As his eyes momentarily rolled back in their sockets, he vaguely heard his wand drop to the floor. The shaking in his knee was spreading. He fell to the floor with a strangled cry, as his whole leg began to convulse. He reached down, clutching the bottom of his torn and bloodied jeans, and pulled the right leg up and over his knee.

Several cries went up around the room.

'Shit,' he breathed, softly.

Across his knee was a long, deep cut, stretching from the top part of his shin to just above his knee cap. It gaped wide open, leaving the flesh inside fully exposed. It was black. Small blisters were forming in the walls of the wound, angry red swellings growing up around them.

The woman who looked like Madam Pomfrey made to move towards Harry once more, but was thrown back by the shield he had erected around himself, which glowed momentarily as she made contact with it.

Ignoring the woman now shouting at him to let her come near, he stared, transfixed at his knee, which was still shaking uncontrollably, and had now begun to smell. The skin around it was peeling away, almost as if some invisible force was pulling at it, and a shadow was creeping in around the edges of the wound. Closing his eyes, momentarily forgetting his audience, Harry took a deep, painful breath, and focused his magic into his hand. Reaching out, he allowed his right hand to hover over his knee. A few second passed, before he drew his hand back, screaming.

'Shit,' he breathed again, 'holy shit.'

He could sense the magic in it.

_Dark magic._

Panic now began to take over his body, as he realised just how dangerous a situation he was in.

'You _must _let me help you!' the woman who looked like Madam Pomfrey was shouting.

Harry turned to face her, his face white with fear. He nodded, slowly. 'Hold out your hand,' he whispered, his voice hoarse.

She obliged, and, focusing his magic once again into the palm of his hand, he allowed it to reach out to her. A gold mist surrounded her hand, drawing a pale, blue light out of it. Pulling back his hand, Harry raised it to touch the protective shield around him. It glowed bright white, before he pulled his hand away, nodding to the woman. 'You can pass through it. It will recognise your magical signature.'

Only vaguely aware of the stirs this piece of magic had caused, Harry watched the woman hurry over to him, passing through the barrier without problem. She crouched down next to Harry, drawing in a sharp breath as she visually examined his knee. 'What _is _this?'

Harry, his breathing now becoming increasingly erratic, hissed through gritted teeth, 'a curse.'

'Excuse me?' she asked, looking intently at him.

'A curse,' Harry gasped, the blisters on his leg now shuddering, starting to move towards one point at the bottom of the wound, 'dark, dark magic; the spell that did this.' He looked wildly up at her. 'I need help.'

He didn't know who she was, and at that point, didn't much care. What had previously appeared to be blisters were now moulding themselves into one, large, white lump – standing in stark contrast to the blackened skin – writhing as though gaining life. As pure, unadulterated panic kicked in, Harry looked up at the woman resembling Madame Pomfrey in desperation. 'Help me, please!'

She hesitated, and Harry let out a scream of pain as the white lump grew, twisting itself into something long, slimy.

'What do I do?' she asked, softly.

He looked at her, pleading, _begging _her with his eyes not to question him. 'Burn it.'

Her eyes widened, and had the situation not been so dire, in that moment Harry would have thought her quite comical.

He screamed again, as the lump of white lengthened further, beginning to rise up out of the wound.

_She's not going to help..._

Gritting his teeth, he picked up his wand in his now trembling hand, and cast a binding spell on his right leg. He could feel it shaking inside, but outwardly, it stilled. Casting a charm to stick his leg to the floor, he placed his wand back down on the floor beside him, pausing to take another deeply painful breath, before holding out his right hand. Fire burst into his outstretched palm, evoking further cries from the people surrounding him, and a harsh flinch from the woman beside him. Now trembling violently, he closed his eyes, and turned his palm over. Screams filled the room, as the smell of burning flesh spread sickeningly.

Someone screamed, and Harry was vaguely aware of another person approaching him, only to be thrown back by the shield. His hand drew instinctively back after mere seconds, and Harry cursed loudly. He couldn't do it. There was no way he could do it.

He turned to the woman beside him, trying one, last time. 'Please,' he whispered, faintly. 'It will kill me.'

She stared at him, horrified, before nodding.

Immediately he grabbed her hand, holding it over his now writhing knee. 'Can you conjure fire?' he asked.

'With a wand.'

He let go of her hand, allowing her to retrieve her wand from the pocket of her robe.

'Burn it.' He said, his voice shaking. 'Don't stop until it's out, even if I beg you.' He looked at her, in earnest now. 'Please, _don't stop_.'

She nodded.

'Now,' he whispered.

She hesitated.

'Now!'

Fire shot out of her wand, and Harry threw his head back, and screamed.

_Stay still._

_Don't move._

The smell of burning flesh filled the room, and Harry could hear the sounds of someone retching. He instinctively made to pull his leg back, but found it bound by the spell he himself had placed on it.

_Don't pull away!_

His hands moved down towards his knee, clawing at the flesh surround it. Pain shot through his leg, and he howled as his knee visibly burned, beginning to cave in on itself. The white mass had fully formed now; a white snake, crawling sickeningly out of the wound on his leg. It was screaming with Harry, burning alive as his knee blackened and charred. It raised its head to look at Harry, hissing in pain.

'_**S **__Stop it!__** S**_,' Harry screamed, tears now streaming down his grubby face, '_**S **__Just die! __**S**_'

The snake hissed angrily at him, '_**S **__Silly, silly boy...__** S**_,' before it exploded in a myriad of colours. A white mist rose up, the faint echoes of the snake's screams reverberating through it.

'Stop!' Harry screamed.

The fire died immediately.

Throwing up his right arm, Harry desperately mumbled a spell, encasing the white mist in an impenetrable, grey bubble, before turning to his right, and vomiting all over the floor.

'Thank you,' he whispered, hoarsely, before slumping forwards, the protective shield around him disappearing as he slipped into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One; '_Every day is a fresh beginning, Every morn is the world made new_.'

* * *

'Will he be ok?' A male voice; low, concerned.

A sigh. 'Honestly? I don't know.' Madame Pomfrey.

'That... that _thing _on his leg – ' A softer voice; female.

'Horrific.'

Slowly opening one eye, Harry noted the dark sky through the window opposite the bed he was lying on. It was night. Carefully reached under his pillow for his wand, and froze when he realised that it was not there. They had taken his wand. Keeping his eye fixed on the three speakers so as to make sure they were still turned away in conversation, he moved his arm back to its previous position and feigned sleep, listening intently to their conversation.

'I'm going to go and let Albus how he's doing,' the woman said, 'Keep an eye on him.'

Footsteps. The door opening and closing.

'Where do you think he came from?' The girl asked, after a few moments.

'No idea.' The boy. 'Never seen anyone like him though, even members of the Order don't look that bad when they get back from raids.'

_They really don't know –_

'How old do you think he is?'

'Sixteen maybe?'

– _Even Dumbledore doesn't –_

'He's so skinny.'

'Mum will sort that out, she'll have him fed up in no time.'

– _It's the only explanation –_

'Do you - ' the girl hesitated, 'Do you think he's dangerous?'

'I don't know,' the boy answered, 'I don't see how a sixteen year old can be.'

– _But it's ridiculous! –_

'I've never seen a sixteen year old perform the kind of magic he did last night.'

'True.'

Silence.

–_Theoretically it's possible... –_

'What if he doesn't wake up?'

'Madame Pomfrey's fixed him up as best she can.'

– _Just never proven... –_

'You didn't answer the question, Ron.'

'I know.'

Harry heard the sound of clothes rustling, and felt the bed shift as someone sat on the end of it.

– _Inter-Dimensional travel._

'He looks so tired.' It was the girl. 'Do you think he – '

'Shhh,' the boy quieted her, 'he's waking up.'

Harry shifted, turning his head so that he was facing the two speakers, eyes still closed.

'Lo,' he said, slowly opening his eyes, his voice low and hoarse.

Two faces swam into focus. Ron. Hermione. Harry felt his face turn hot, as he struggled not to allow tears to roll down his still grubby cheeks. These weren't _his_ friends.

'How are you feeling?' the girl asked, her voice soft, 'Ron, go and get Madame Pomfrey and – '

'Hermione,' Harry croaked.

The girl's eyes widened. 'How do you – '

Harry let out a barking laugh, which quickly deteriorated into a coughing fit.

With a whispered, 'A_guamenti_,' the girl who looked like Hermione filled a glass stood on the cabinet beside Harry, and handed it to him.

'Thank you,' he murmured, allowing the ice cold water to sooth his throat.

'Better?' the girl asked, still speaking in hushed tones.

Harry nodded.

The boy who looked like Ron coughed and Harry turned to look at him, causing the boy's cheeks and ears to turn red.

At that moment, the woman who looked like Madame Pomfrey made her reappearance.

'Good,' she said, 'You're awake. How are you feeling?'

Harry made to shrug, and then hissed in pain as his shoulder shifted on the pillow.

The woman was immediately at his side, casting diagnostic spells over his body. 'I didn't want to do anything while you were asleep,' she explained. 'Merlin knows what that thing was. We weren't sure you'd make it through the night...' She shuddered, 'didn't want to make things worse by bombarding you with magic.'

Harry merely nodded. He had seen the spell which had caused the damage to his leg before, but didn't know the name of it. He must have been hit with it during the Final Battle. It was dark, dark magic, and resulted in death unless treated. He shivered. _Treated_. The only way to kill the creature was to burn it before it fully emerged.

'Your shoulder is dislocated – Merlin only knows how you slept with that – you have severe cuts to you face, stomach, legs and arms; in particular your right forearm, and the wound on your leg is still open.'

Harry nodded. 'My feet are cut up too.'

She moved her wand down towards his feet, casting a wave of purple magic across them. 'Yes,' she said, quietly.

Harry nodded again, sinking further into the pillow resting under his head. 'Can you heal them?'

The woman's answer was a wave of magic, which passed softly Harry's body. He felt her focus her energy on the cut on his left cheek, and relaxed into the magic as it slowly knitted the skin back together. She treated the cuts to his face first, then moving on to his stomach, arms, feet and finally his legs. She gave his right knee a wide birth, making sure not to brush up against it with her magic. When the cuts were healed, she passed him a vial out of a pocket of her robe, removing the lid. 'Drink this.'

Harry looked at it, suspiciously.

'It's a bone-ease potion,' she said. 'It will make your bones momentarily pliable, so that I can move your shoulder back into place more easily.'

Sniffing the potion and discovering that it was, indeed, what the woman said it was, Harry tipped the vial down his throat, swallowing the thick, blue potion.

After a few moments, the woman moved her hands to Harry's shoulder. He grimaced, as she took hold of the joint, and cried out, as she eased it back into position.

'There,' she said, removing her hands, 'done.'

'Thank you,' Harry said, his voice still hoarse.

She smiled down at him, before frowning. 'Your knee – ' she said.

'Should be dressed, and then re-dressed every twenty-four hours,' Harry informed her. 'Other than that, it should be left.'

She nodded. 'What was it?' she asked, looking, Harry thought, torn between wanting to know the answer, and feeling repulsed at the very thought of it.

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know the name of it.'

'But you've seen it before?'

He nodded.

'Very well,' the woman said. 'It's a good job you knew what to do. Even if it was... well...' She looked as though she were about to throw up.

'Repulsive?' Harry offered.

'That's one way of putting it,' she agreed. Moving away from the bed, she said, 'I'll just dress your knee and then we'll leave you to rest. We didn't want to touch it last night for fear of damaging it further.'

'Ok,' Harry said, sinking back into his pillow.

'You two,' she said, gesturing at the people who were so like Ron and Hermione, who were hovering near the end of the bed, 'Go and tell Albus that –' She trailed off, looking to Harry, expecting him to fill in the name for her.

Harry hesitated. If he was wrong, if he was still in his world...

_Careful. They could be anyone._

'Harry,' he said hesitantly, 'Harry Potter.'

Still half expecting a reaction at the mention of his name, he felt an odd mixture of disappointment and relief wash over him, as it became obvious that no-one in the room had ever heard of him before.

' – that Harry has woken up.'

'You really don't know who I am, do you?' Harry asked, quietly, and Madam Pomfrey, Ron and Hermione all turned to look at him.

'Should we?' Hermione asked.

Harry didn't reply.

'Potter,' Ron was muttering, 'Potter... I know that name. Ah! I know, there was pair of Aurors. Yeah, killed years back. James, I think the guy was. Can't remember his wife's name – '

'Lilly,' Harry whispered. 'Her name was Lily, wasn't it?'

Ron gaped at him. 'Yeah, yeah I think it was. How do you - '

'Madame Pomfrey,' Harry asked, cutting Ron off, 'where are we?'

'Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,' she replied.

Harry noticed Hermione shooting her a sharp look.

'Albus said he was to be told,' she said, shortly, not even turning to look at Hermione to gauge her reaction.

'Where I come from,' Harry said, his words slow, measured, 'the bedrooms at headquarters aren't nearly so nice.'

'What do you mean, "where you come from"?' Madame Pomfrey asked, sharply, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed Harry.

Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes, thoughts racing. 'I think,' he started, hesitantly. 'I think... I'm from a different world.'

There was silence.

'Excuse me?' Hermione asked.

'Have you ever heard of inter-dimensional travel?'

'Of course!' she said, affronted, and Harry smiled slightly. 'It's theoretical though, of course. It's when – _oh_.' A look of dawning comprehension appeared on her face. 'Poppy,' she asked, not taking her eyes off of Harry, 'the Potters; those Aurors Ron was talking about. Were they members of the Order of the Phoenix?'

Madame Pomfrey's eyes widened, apparently picking up on where Hermione was going with this, 'Yes, they were, and Lilly had such bright, green eyes...'

'Wait,' Ron said, brow furrowing in confusion, 'what do they have to do with Harry – '

'Ron, just _look_,' Hermione breathed, 'don't you remember that photograph of the old Order of the Phoenix that Alastor showed us? The one taken the first time he came to power?'

'Yes, but –'

'There was young couple,' Hermione continued, 'sat in the front row. They must have been the Potters.'

'Yeah, I remember; that guy with all the messy, black hair. But – _Oh_!'

She smiled, and both her and Ron, and Madame Pomfrey turned to stare at Harry in absolute wonder.

'Harry Potter,' Madame Pomfrey said, sounding dazed. 'Harry _Potter_. Well I never.'

.o0o.

Sat at the bottom end of the longest table Harry had seen outside of Hogwarts, he could feel the eyes of everyone present fixed upon him, apart from Draco Malfoy, who was currently inspecting his nails. Harry snorted.

'Are you ok, dear?' Mrs Weasley asked, breaking the silence.

'Fine,' Harry assured her, hurriedly, 'I'm fine, thank you Mrs Weasley.'

'Oh,' Mrs Weasley replied, waving her hand at him, 'Molly is fine, dear.'

Harry smiled.

A soft chiming sound brought Harry's attention to the top of the table, where Dumbledore was sat, smiling broadly, a small bell sat on the table in front of him. Harry grinned; it was somehow comforting to know that some things, like Dumbledore's childlike fascination with pretty instruments, remained unchanged no matter the dimension.

'Now that I have your attention,' Dumbledore began, smiling at Harry, 'There are some things we must discuss. This, as some of you know,' – he gestured towards Ron and Hermione - , 'is Harry Potter. You have all heard of inter-dimensional travel, I presume?'

Nods and general murmurs of assent rippled round the table.

'Wonderful,' Dumbledore continued, 'In that case there is less explaining to be done. Harry, we believe, has come to us from another dimension.' Disbelieving gasps went up around the room, which Dumbledore chose to ignore. 'How,' he continued, 'we do not know. Harry, my name is Albus Dumbledore, and we,' - he spread his arms – , 'are the Order of The Phoenix.' Here, Dumbledore stopped speaking, rested his chin on his steepled fingers, and looked politely towards Harry. As the rest of the table looked back from Dumbledore to him, Harry felt his cheeks redden.

'Perfect,' a familiar, upper-class, self-important voice muttered, 'he's a bloody mute - '

'Shut _up_, Malfoy!'

The boy froze, aristocratic mouth hanging wide open.

Harry laughed, and the boy immediately shut his mouth, glaring at him.

'Seriously, how do you know my name?' he demanded.

'He knew our names too,' Hermione said, gesturing to Ron and herself. 'He must have known you in his own world.'

Malfoy glared at Harry, but it lacked the venom it had held in his world, and Harry looked away.

'Perhaps we could ask you questions, Harry?' Dumbledore continued, 'If you are uncomfortable telling your story from scratch. You, of course, do not have to answer anything you do not wish to.'

Harry nodded.

'Feel free to ask any questions you yourself have, as you so wish.'

Another nod.

'Excellent,' Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. 'Well then Harry, if I may, how exactly do you believe you arrived here? You gave us quite a fright, I must say; dreadful state you were in, and you simply _appeared_.'

Harry frowned, his blush deepening. 'I don't know, Professor - '

'Professor?'

'Oh!' Harry said, cheeks now burning, 'Oh, sorry, Sir, only where I came from, you were a teacher at Hogwarts; Headmaster, actually.'

Dumbledore smiled fondly at him, 'Ah yes I was Headmaster here too, Harry. But that was before Lord Voldemort's second rise. Here, you may call me Albus.'

'What?' Harry asked, shocked, ignoring the name change he was invited to use, 'Why aren't you Headmaster anymore?'

'I am afraid,' Albus said, looking grave now, 'that Hogwarts was forced to close, Harry, soon after Lord Voldemort's second rise to power.'

Harry gaped. 'Hogwarts _closed_? _Why_?'

'Rufus Scrimgeour, that is to say, our Minister for Magic, decided that Hogwarts was no longer safe. It was closed just two months after Lord Voldemort's return.'

'And when did Voldemort return?' Harry asked, rolling his eyes at the gasps which went up around the table.

'You call him by his name?' Albus asked, his smile back in place. 'Excellent.' He paused here, surveying Harry. 'In answer to your question,' he continued after a few moments, 'Lord Voldemort returned three years ago, during an event called the Triwizard Tournament, which was held at Hogwarts. Did that event exist in your world?'

Harry nodded. 'He came back then in my world too.'

'Indeed?' Albus asked. 'How interesting. It would seem there are certain similarities then. Well, the Minister for Magic at the time was one Cornelius Fudge.'

Harry nodded again, acknowledging the name.

'You know him?'

'He was our Minister for Magic.'

'And how was he?'

Harry snorted. 'Utterly incompetent; and that's being kind. He refused to believe that Voldemort had returned, allowed him a year to gather strength and support before accepting his return, and was finally replaced at the beginning of my sixth year at Hogwarts.'

A stunned silence greeted this speech.

'Ah,' was Albus' response. 'Well, here things happened a little differently. Fudge was replaced immediately after Lord Voldemort's return. The death of the Boy-Who-Lived during the third task of the tournament was apparently enough evidence - '

'_What_?' Harry cried, incredulous. 'I can't have _died_. None of you knew who I was!'

Albus frowned lightly at him. 'I don't believe I mentioned you having – Ah.' Comprehension, not dissimilar to that which had appeared on Hermione's face earlier, seemed to dawn on him. 'You are the Boy-Who-Lived? In your world?'

Harry nodded, his eyes wide in confusion. 'Then who - '

'Neville,' an elderly, proud voice interrupted. 'My grandson, Neville Longbottom.'

Harry turned, and found himself looking into the face of Augusta Longbottom; the woman in Dumbledore's memories. The one who had taken Neville in.

'When is your birthday, Harry?' Albus asked, tearing Harry's attention away from the woman who had given such unwavering support to him in his own world.

'Thirty-first of August, sir.'

'Ah. So it could have applied to either one of you,' Albus said, thoughtfully. 'You see,' he continued, 'In our world, Harry, your parents died fighting for the Order not long after they were married. I don't believe thoughts of children had yet entered their minds. A prophecy was made; a prophecy about a child - '

'I know the prophecy, sir,' Harry interjected. 'It was made in this world too?'

'Yes,' another voice cut in. 'Yes, it was made here too; by me, in fact.'

'Professor Trelawney,' Harry said, turning to face her.

'Oh, now none of this _Professor _business,' she said, looking straight at Harry, 'I haven't taught in fourteen years!'

'Oh,' Harry said, in a small voice. 'Sorry. In my world, you were still teaching.'

'Was I?' Trelawney asked, genuine surprise showing on her face, 'Well then I must have been quite batty! Teaching never was much good for me.'

Harry's blush returned, causing Trelawney to laugh.

'Never mind, dear boy. I never did much like teaching anyway. You must call be Sybill.'

Harry smiled.

'The prophecy,' Sybill continued, 'was one I made, oooh sixteen years back, I think. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have - '_

' – _power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies_.'

Silence rang in the room as Harry finished the prophecy, reciting word for word what they had all heard countless times over the past years.

'You really are the Boy-Who-Lived?' Ron asked, mouth hanging open.

Harry didn't answer.

'Obviously, numskull,' came another familiar, entirely unwelcome voice.

Harry turned to face Draco Malfoy, eyes narrowed.

'What is your problem?' the other boy demanded, seeing the glare Harry was sending him.

'You, and your obnoxious insults.'

'And who exactly am I supposed to have insulted?'

'Ron!'

Malfoy looked genuinely confused. 'I wasn't insulting him. Well, I was, but he's not _offended _by it.'

Harry turned to look at Ron, who was, in turn, looking at Harry as though he was slightly unhinged. Slowly, something dawned on Harry. 'You're friends here, aren't you?' he asked, softly.

Both boys nodded.

'We weren't in your world?' Ron asked.

Harry laughed. 'Not exactly, no. You hated each other.'

'_What_?'

Harry laughed again. 'Well, Malfoy – sorry, Draco, I should probably say - ' he paused -, 'God that sounds weird... Anyway, Draco and I hated each other, to be more exact. School rivals, instant enemies, nemeses to the end... you get the picture.' He paused here, frowning. 'Sorry,' he said, eventually, turning to face Draco, 'But in my world, no offense meant, you were an absolute git.'

Draco spluttered. 'No offense _meant_? Excuse me?'

'Well you were!' Harry replied, 'You were awful! You were a complete and utter bully, you took the piss out of me at every opportunity, you mocked Ron constantly for his family not having much money,' - he paused here, turning to face Mr Weasley – 'I'm sorry, Mr Weasley, I don't know anything about your situation here; in my world though you weren't particularly well-off. Not that it mattered. It was just that Malfoy was such a snob - '

'I am not a snob!'

'– that he saw it as opportunity to take the crap out of Ron,' Harry finished, ignoring Draco's outburst. 'You looked down on muggleborns, you were snobbish, rude, arrogant, and downright nasty. Oh,' he added, almost as an afterthought, 'and you were a Death Eater.'

'_What_?' This time the outburst came from half the occupants of the room.

Draco glared at him. 'I absolutely refuse to believe you.'

Harry shrugged. 'Fine, don't believe me. It's not you I'm talking about anyway, I guess. Just someone with the same name, face, conceited manner – '

'That's it!' Within seconds Draco had his wand drawn, pointing directly at Harry. '_Densaugeo!_'

But Harry, reflexes heightened by the war he had fought through, was too quick. With a wave of his hand, an invisible shield was raised around him. The spell bounced of the shield and ricocheted off towards the other side of the room. Albus motioned his wand towards the ray of light, banishing it with a smooth flick of his wrist, whilst the rest of the Order looked on in silent awe.

'That is quite enough, Harry, Draco.'

Both boys scowled at each other, before nodding in acknowledgment of Albus's warning.

'So you survived the Triwizard Tournament?' a soft voice asked, interrupting the silent glaring competition Harry and Draco were engaged in, and Harry turned to see Augusta Longbottom watching him, apparently having ignored the large part of the conversation since the mention of her late grandson.

'Yes, although it was mainly down to luck.'

'We make our own luck, Harry,' Albus said, gravely, 'You must be congratulated on such a feat. Now I do believe,' he continued, 'that we have become rather sidetracked from my initial question. How do you believe you arrived here?'

'I don't know,' Harry repeated. 'The Battle had ended - '

'Battle?' Albus asked.

'The Final Battle,' Harry replied, a slight smile appearing on his face. 'We did it, we defeated him.'

'Who, Harry,' Albus asked quickly, leaning forward on the table, barely disguised excitement on his lined face, 'who did you defeat?'

Harry grinned. 'Voldemort.'


	3. Chapter Two

A/N Sorry for the long break between updates; I started university in September so everything's been a bit hectic since then. Updates will take longer than the first one from now on so I apologise in advance for that. Thank you for the lovely reviews (I think I replied to all of them but I may have missed a few), they're all very much appreciated! Hope you enjoy this chapter,

a. house. of. pomegranates

* * *

Chapter Two; '_Childhood is a short season_.'

* * *

Gasps echoed around the room, and even Malfoy looked begrudgingly awed.

'How did they - '

'Impossible - '

'The injuries; he was covered - '

'And that... that _thing_ - '

'He _fought_?'

'Quiet please!' Albus said, ringing his bell.

Harry stifled a laugh, as various members of the Order rolled their eyes at their leader's antics, nevertheless ending their whispered conversations and turning back to face Albus, who in turn, gestured to Harry to continue his story.

'Well, uuum, yeah...' Harry stumbled, finding himself once again pinned under the intense gaze of every Order member. 'The Battle had ended, and I was moving back towards the castle - '

'Castle?'

'Oh, yeah the Battle took place in the grounds of Hogwarts.' Harry's eyes glazed over slightly, mental images, having been suppressed by the shock of what had happened now flooding back into his mind. So many bodies.

'Harry? Harry, dear are you ok?'

Shaking his head, trying clear his thoughts, Harry turned towards the speaker. 'I'm fine, Mrs Weasley – ah, I mean, Molly – thank you.' He frowned. _Molly_. The name sounded just as strange coming from his mouth as 'Draco' had done.

'The battle had ended...' Albus prompted, looking more sympathetic than impatient.

'Ah, yes,' Harry started, 'the battle had ended, and I was making my way back up to the castle. There were... well, most of you were...' he broke off, struggling to hold back tears.

_Dead; so many of them had died._

'Short version,' he continued, shaking his head slightly, 'someone hit me in the back with a spell. I don't know what, I don't even know if it was intentional or accidental. Next thing I know, I was waking up here.'

'So to sum up,' Draco's voice sneered, 'he knows absolutely nothing.'

'Not nothing,' Albus replied, contemplatively. 'We know it was a spell which sent Harry here, not a potion, or ritual, or any other form of magic. Perhaps... do you remember the spell at all Harry? Even just the colour of the light, perhaps?'

Harry shook his head, 'no, sir.'

Albus nodded. 'Not to worry, it may be that you remember eventually, once the shock of everything which has happened passes. Now,' he continued, turning to face the rest of the Order, 'does anyone else have questions they wish to ask Harry. If so, now is the time to voice them.' With that he sat back, surveying the Order over the tops of his glasses.

'Uuum, Harry?' Hermione began, seeming nervous, 'Did you... I mean you must have, I just... Did you fight? In the Final Battle, I mean?'

Harry nodded, eliciting further gasps from the Order members.

'Was that the first battle you'd fought in?' she continued.

'No,' Harry replied, shortly.

Hermione blushed, 'Oh! I'm sorry I don't mean to... well I just... none of us' – she gestured to the people sat nearest to her; Ron, Parvati, Padma – who had appeared since the previous night –, Draco, a girl Harry was sure had been in Ravenclaw, in the year above his at Hogwarts, and a dark haired boy he had never seen before – 'have ever fought. I never thought I'd meet someone my age who had.'

Harry stared at her. 'You haven't? But, you're in the Order!'

'Yes...' Hermione said, hesitantly, 'but we're not involved in fighting.'

'Oh,' Harry said, confusion lacing his voice. 'Oh, well yes, I've fought. You did too,' – he gestured to the group – 'in my world.'

'We did?' Ron asked, shocked. 'What, in the Final Battle?'

Harry nodded. 'And before that.'

Looks of shock and awe passed between the teenagers.

'Harry,' Hermione began, sounding more confident now that she knew Harry wasn't reacting badly to her questions, 'When was the first time you faced You-Know-Who? Apart from when you were a baby? I mean, I presume he tried to kill you as a baby? Like he did Neville here?'

Harry nodded. 'After that, the first time I faced him was in my First year at Hogwarts. I was eleven.'

'_What_?'

Harry turned; surprised to find Draco staring at him, mouth hanging open. 'You were _eleven_? That's ridiculous!'

Harry laughed. 'Yeah, I guess it was really.'

'Why in Merlin's name were you fighting Dark Lords at the age of _eleven_?'

Harry frowned. Shouldn't they know? Or perhaps the events of his first year had never occurred in this world? 'Have you heard of something called the Philosopher's Stone?' he asked, directing his answer to the whole Order.

Blank faces looked back at him.

'Ah,' he continued, 'well in my world, there was a stone created by a man named Nicholas Flamel. It produced an elixir which turned any metal to gold, and gave the drinker immortal life.'

'Wow,' Ron breathed.

'Yeah,' Harry said, somewhat sadly. It seemed so long since he'd seen that boyish, innocent expression on Ron's face. He'd missed it. 'Well, it was kept in Gringotts, but was moved to Hogwarts for safekeeping. Voldemort found out, managed to possess one of the teachers at Hogwarts, and tried to take it. We,' – here he gestured towards Ron and Hermione – 'found out about it, although, we thought it was someone else trying to steal it,' – he glanced at Snape – 'but that's not important. We got through the protective spells surrounding it, and then I managed to stop him from taking it.'

Ron and Hermione were looking at him, utterly spellbound.

'We helped?' Hermione asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

'Yes,' Harry smiled. 'You two helped me through everything.'

'Wow,' Ron breathed again. 'Cool!'

Harry laughed.

'If I may ask,' Professor Snape began, 'How were you able to find out what was happening? I trust the stone's location was not made public knowledge?'

'Oh,' Harry began, an embarrassed smile forming on his face, 'I was never really one for following rules, sir.'

Silence followed this statement, before Ron snorted loudly, breaking some sort of barrier which had been holding the others back. Soon others joined Ron's laughter, while Harry grinned sheepishly at them all.

'And were there any other instances, Harry,' Albus asked, eyes twinkling, 'in which your disregard for the rules led to heroic feats?'

Harry laughed, loudly. 'I don't know about heroic, sir, but yes, plenty of times it led me to trouble. And,' he added, 'plenty of times it helped me out.'

'Is that so?'

'First year; had we not found out about what Voldemort was planning, he would have returned that year.'

Albus nodded, acknowledging the truth in this.

'Second year,' Harry continued, 'he tried to return, and again we stopped him. Broke about fifty school rules in the process...' he grinned, 'but, someone had to do it.'

Ron snorted again, looking at Harry with a wide grin on his face. 'I like him,' he announced.

Harry laughed, 'thanks Ron,' before continuing. 'Third year, Siri- uuh, someone escaped from Azkaban - '

_Don't complicate things more than you have to._

' – Everyone thought he'd escaped to come after me. We found out that he was actually innocent and helped him to escape on a condemned Hippogriff,' Harry grinned. 'Good story actually, that one.'

'And your fourth year?' Albus asked, ignoring the laughter coming from the group of teenagers.

'Triwizard Tournament,' Harry replied, the cheery tone evaporating from his voice. 'I won, as I assume Neville did?'

There were general murmurs of assent.

'Well, I drew actually. There was another boy and we took the cup together. We were transported to a graveyard - ' He broke off. 'I trust you know this part of the story?'

Albus nodded, looking grave. 'However,' he said, not taking his eyes off of Harry, 'evidently in your world, events took a different turn. As you have learned, our Boy-Who-Lived is no longer with us.'

Harry nodded softly. 'Voldemort killed the other boy; Cedric, his name was. I escaped,' he said, shortly.

'Would you care to tell us how?'Albus asked.

Harry remained silent.

'I see,' Dumbledore said, his face kind. 'Of course, there will be some things you wish not to share.'

Harry gave him a brief smile. 'Thank you.' Coughing to clear his throat, he continued; 'Voldemort returned, as you know, that night. Fudge wouldn't believe it; I, along with you,' – he gestured towards Dumbledore - , 'was discredited, and Voldemort had a year to build up support, before another battle at the Ministry of Magic at the end of my fifth year. That was when I found out about the prophecy. Sixth year, I found out about the Horcruxes - ' Harry's eyes widened, as his mouth continued to move, but no sound came out.

'Severus,' Albus scolded, 'there was no need for that.' With a wave of his wand, Albus removed the silencing charm, ignoring the scowling Snape beside him.

'I am sorry about that, Harry,' Albus continued, 'but I must ask you not to speak about that particular subject in front of our younger members.'

'Hey!' Ron shouted, pointing to Harry, 'we're almost the same age he is!'

Harry frowned. Almost the same age?

'Yes,' Abus agreed, 'but you, fortunately, have been allowed your childhood; you are just beginning to become adults, and as such, are still protected by those older than you. This young man, it appears, grew up long ago. In age, you are equal. In experience, I must say, he puts many of the Order's adult members to shame.'

Ron lowered his arm, having no response to this.

'If I may, Harry, I will ask you to skip over that particular event, although I would like to discuss it with you at some point in the near future. '

Harry nodded slowly. 'Right, yes of course, well that year Voldemort continued to grow in strength, and at the end of the year I... uuum... well I went with you to...' He paused, frowning. 'We went somewhere to find something.'

Apparently understanding perfectly, Albus nodded. 'And were we successful?' he asked.

A pained look crossed Harry's face. 'I guess that depends on how you look at it.'

Piercing eyes surveyed him. 'Very well,' Albus said, 'please, continue.'

'Well that night Death Eaters were let into the castle.'

Silence greeted this announcement.

'How?' Hermione asked finally, gently, as though half afraid of the answer.

Harry hesitated.

_It's not him. It's not the same person. Let it go..._

He couldn't help it though. His eyes flickered to Draco as he spoke. 'Someone helped them; let them in.'

Harry saw Snape watching him carefully, and saw his eyebrow raise as he glanced over towards Draco.

'Seventh year,' he continued, hastily, 'me, Ron and Hermione left Hogwarts to look for the, uuum, well we had things we had to do.' He looked towards Albus who nodded briefly towards him, letting him know he understood. Harry continued, 'Draco had left after the... _events_ of the previous year, and quite a few other students were pulled out - '

'How about us?' Parvati asked excitedly, gesturing to the other teenagers at the table, 'Where were we.'

Harry smiled at him. 'You and Padma stayed at Hogwarts; you were part of a rebel group, actually.'

'Rebel group?' Parvati frowned. 'Why were we part of a rebel group?'

Harry hesitated. 'The school...' he said. 'It was practically being run by Death Eaters. They were teachers.'

Silent horror filled the room.

'And we _rebelled _against them?' Parvati asked, in awe. 'Wow!'

Padma elbowed her in the arm at this remark, causing Parvati to glare at her accusing. 'Pav, don't be so stupid. It must have been awful.'

Parvati rolled her eyes, turning away from her sister to face the girl sat next to her; the one Harry didn't know the name of.

'So what about me?' the girl asked, 'what was I doing?

'I don't know,' Harry admitted. 'I recognise you from the school, but I never knew you. Sorry.'

'Oh,' she said, sounding faintly disappointed, 'Oh well in that case then, my name is Anna Bradford.'

Turning to the dark haired boy sat beside Draco, he said, 'sorry, but I don't know you either. I don't think you were at Hogwarts in my world at all.'

'Eric,' he said, simply, 'Eric Taylor.'

Harry smiled, 'pleased to meet you both.'

'So, anyway, we went off on some mission thing...' Ron started, clearly keen to hear the rest of Harry's tale.

Harry laughed. 'Yes, we went off on a 'mission thing.' We were away for a long time, actually.' His voice softened, the laughter fading from his eyes. 'We lived in a small tent, camping all over England; we had to move every few days, you know, to make sure we weren't caught. We had all sorts of spells set up around the tent, and one of us had to stay up at all times to keep watch. There wasn't much to eat.' Here he stopped, looking at Ron. 'You,' he laughed, 'were a right git half the time.'

Ron grinned, 'Cause of the food shortages, right?'

Returning the grin, Harry answered, 'Got it in one.'

'So how long did we evade them for?' Hermione asked, eyes shining at the thought of all things her counterpart had done.

'About six months,' Harry answered, grimacing at the looks of shock on the older Order member's faces, 'it was hard to keep track.'

'You lasted _six months_?' Molly asked, 'On your _own_? Oh, you poor thing, no wonder you're so thin.'

At this, Harry let out a heart warming laugh, feeling a sudden rush of affection towards this world's Mrs Weasley. _Molly_, he corrected himself. 'Yes. We were captured, once. Taken to Malfoy Manor.' He cast a quick glance over at Draco at this, who grimaced, and then at Hermione. His words caught in his throat.

_She died. She was tortured to death._

'That was... unpleasant,' he admitted, fighting the urge to either run to Hermione; gather her up and never let her go, or cry, and deciding, for Draco's sake, to gloss over the actual events. 'After that a safe house was established for the Order. We moved there for another six months or so, trained, and finished what we needed to do.'

_And Ron fell apart._

'The whole Order set off back for Hogwarts,' Harry continued, struggling to reign in his emotions, 'and the Final Battle took place the evening we arrived.' Harry stopped, blinking round at the expectant eyes still fixed on him. 'Uum,' he said, 'that's it.'

'Thank you,' Albus said. Then, with a slight laugh, 'I believe that answered Hermione's question quite thoroughly.'

Harry blushed.

'Would anyone else like to ask Harry anything?'

No-one moved.

'Your knee...' Anna said, eventually.

Harry grimaced, 'is still open, blackened, bleeding, and stinging like a bitch.'

Anna looked horrified. 'What was it?' she whispered.

'A spell,' Harry said, shortly, 'dark magic.'

'And how long will it take to heal?'

Harry shrugged. 'I have no idea; I've never known anybody live through it.'

Silence rang out in the room.

Harry laughed brutally. 'What, you think many people think to burn their own flesh?'

Shocked looks met this, and Harry grimaced slightly. 'Sorry.' Then, turning back to Anna he added, 'It's the only way to stop it. I wasn't sure if it would work, actually. I've only ever seen someone try to stop it once and, well...' he trailed off.

'They died, didn't they?' Hermione whispered.

Harry nodded.

'Oh, you poor boy!' Molly cried, startling Harry out of his thoughts. He looked over, and was shocked to find there were tears in her eyes.

He smiled at her. 'Don't worry, Mrs Weasley – aargh, sorry, _Molly - _' He shook his head slightly. _So strange_. 'I'm pretty lucky it the spell hit my leg, really,' he continued. 'If it had hit anywhere near my chest or head I would have died instantly.'

Ron gaped at him. 'How can you be so... so... _fine_ about the idea that you nearly _died_?'

Harry smiled. He really had missed this Ron; before he was war-toughened, before he fell apart and had to be put back together carefully, cautiously, before Hermione was...

_Stop. It's in the past now._

Shaking himself slightly, Harry said, 'I just am.'

Obviously sensing that Harry wasn't going to elaborate, Ron nodded, nevertheless continuing to stare at him as though something unimaginably strange.

'Harry,' Albus asked after a few moments, 'the creature Poppy burned out. You contained it in a spell of some kind - I must ask you, is it secure?'

Harry nodded. 'It can't escape. I can dispose of it in the morning.'

'Wonderful,' Albus smiled, 'Now, Harry,' he continued, 'are there any questions you would like to ask?'

'Yes,' Harry said, instantly focusing in on Albus and forgetting about the snake, 'The war situation, what is it like here?'

Albus looked instantly grave, and somewhat saddened. 'Your first day in an entirely new dimension, and the first thing you want to know is the war situation... Harry, you don't need to worry about that here - '

'Yes,' Harry interrupted. 'I do.'

Albus made to continue with his line of speech, and, seeing this, Harry cut in once more. 'Sir, please. I've spent my entire life training to fight Voldemort. I've seen things most people couldn't see without being driven insane, and I've learnt things most people would cringe at the very idea of. I've been captured and tortured. I've faced Acromantula, Dementors, a _Basalisk_, and killed the greatest Dark Wizard ever recorded. You watched me burn my own flesh yesterday after having been cursed. I've nearly died more times than I can remember. Please, _don't _patronise me; don't tell me I'm too young to ask about a war.'

Absolute silence greeted this speech, and Harry sat, perfectly still, watching Albus.

'Very well,' he replied eventually. 'All I mean to say, Harry, is that you do not, if you do not so wish, _have_ to fight this war.'

Harry nodded briskly. He knew. It just didn't make a difference.

'In that case,' Albus continued, understanding perfectly what Harry was telling him with that single jerk of his head, 'I guess you shall have to know. We can hardly treat you as a child, after all, and I don't deny that your experience would be a huge asset to us. Molly, if you don't mind...'

'Of course, Albus. You lot, bed,' she ordered, looking pointedly at the cluster of teenagers at the end of the table nearest Harry.

An eruption of noise greeted this order.

'_What?_'

'Oh you have _got _to be kidding me!'

'Mum that is so unfair!'

'Quiet!' Molly shouted, her face red. 'You have never questioned the Order's decision not to involve you directly in the war before now, and I will not allow you to begin now. When you are of age, _then _you may be included in discussions - '

'Of age?' Harry asked, confused. 'But you're all already of age.'

'They most certainly are not!' Molly exclaimed, making Harry cringe slightly. 'They are eighteen years old!'

Perplexed, Harry said, 'Exactly. They're eighteen – oh! When do you come of age in this world?'

'Twenty,' Molly replied.

Harry's eyes widened. 'Ooh, so you're really not all of age. Wait a minute,' he added, his eyebrows furrowing, 'How come you can use magic then? Both Draco and Hermione have.'

'Private residence,' Hermione explained, quickly. 'As long as we don't use magic outside, the Ministry can't tell who's performed the spell.'

'Oh right,' Harry responded, feeling slightly stupid, 'of course.'

'Wait,' Draco started, 'When did you come of age in your world then?'

'Seventeen.'

'_What?_'

Harry laughed.

'So you've been of age for nearly two years now?'

'No,' Harry replied, perplexed, 'I'm still seventeen.'

Silence resonated throughout the room.

'Excuse me, Harry?'

Harry turned his attention back to Albus. 'Yes, sir?'

'You were born the same month as Neville, yes?'

Harry nodded slowly, not seeing where this was going.

'Then, forgive me if I'm mistaken, but that should make you eighteen. Nineteen this July.'

Harry stared at him blankly. 'No... I'm in the same school year as these guys.'

Albus' eyes widened. 'Harry, were you delayed a year in attending Hogwarts?'

Harry's brow furrowed. 'No.'

'Ah,' Albus said, apparently satisfied that he had solved the problem, 'You see Neville was born the year before you then, but was delayed a year in attending Hogwarts; residue dark magic from Lord Voldemort's curse meant he was bed-bound in St Mungo's for almost a year. I assumed, as I'm sure the rest of the Order did, that your life had paralleled Neville's in that respect.'

Ron's mouth dropped open. 'So he's _younger _than us?'

'It would appear that way, Ron, yes.'

There was silence for a few moments, as all the teenagers turned to stare at Harry, undisguised awe in their expressions. And then, 'I thought he was a bit small.'

Harry blushed profusely, half in embarrassment, half anger – he was _not _small! – and turned to glare Ron, missing the admiring glances both Parvati and Draco were giving him.

'Either way,' Molly interjected, interrupting Ron's laughter, 'You are _not _all staying to listen to this.'

Protests started up immediately -

'But he's _younger _than us!'

'We want to know what's happening!'

- quickly silenced by a severe look from Molly. Apparently, like Albus' obsession with pretty trinkets, the Weasley matriarch's infamous temper, and the resulting fear of an explosion from her, remained unchanged no matter the dimension.

Still grumbling loudly, the group of teenagers turned and left, making their way up a flight of stairs to what Harry could only assume must be their bedrooms. Minutes passed, and no-one spoke, until the faint sounds of movement from the upper floors dissipated, and silence once again reigned over the kitchen.

'Now, Harry,' Albus began, as usual the first to break the silence. 'What is it you wish to know?'


End file.
